


All is Ash or the Light Shining Through It

by coveryourheads (rsk110)



Category: The Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Angst, Character Death, M/M, Past Child Abuse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-03
Updated: 2016-05-02
Packaged: 2018-06-06 01:31:57
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 14,345
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6732409
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rsk110/pseuds/coveryourheads
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This is... the red balloon emoji fic... that I snippeted on my Tumblr.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Okay bad bad summary.  
> This fic started based on this prompt: http://idareyoutowrite.tumblr.com/post/143244233627  
> About Tír na nÓg... Which is 'Land of Youth'.  
> So... It is AU, with Daryl who is severely abused as a child, who meets Glenn, and deals with Merle.  
> But it does have the red balloon emoji.
> 
> The style is... strange. And I'll be honest and say I didn't love writing this fic. But it got pounded out of me by whatever fairy fic magic that was cast upon me. It jumps from 2nd to 3rd to 1st POV and... I tried going back to redo but... I just left it alone. Let it be and maybe I'll like it better later on. :)
> 
> The only trigger I can think of for this fic is the Child Abuse part.  
> Title is from The Sound of Animals Fighting song.
> 
> Please let me know if you like it, hate it, or think I could have done better. :)

**All is Ash or the Light Shining Through It**

\---   

_"This box is lovely that I made, You may open up whenever you're lonely..._  
 _Flesh is heretic, My body is a witch, I am burning it_  
 _Wake up for this wish..._  
 _It's so hard leaving you down below..._  
 _For if I leave your empty smile, explode into four..._  
 _Secrets and irises open the door to a pride of lions and murder of crows_  
 _No one knows how I begin but how I'll end..._  
 _You're focused in the reason why, I'm far beneath the answer_  
 _You're acting like a separation..."_  
\-- _"Act II: All is Ash or the Light Shining Through It"_ by The Sound of Animals Fighting 

\---   

Didn't know what you wanted out of this shitty life you had for yourself.  Grabbed whatever you could, deciding it was best to leave that hellhole people label 'home'.  Took a deep breath, slammed the door behind you, stepped out into the world.  It couldn't be too bad, this world.  Took the old man's key to the truck, never mind what he was going to do about it when he realized it was gone.  He wouldn't call the cops on you, because he knew if you got caught, he would get some questions about the bruise around your eye, the black and green fist sized marks on your body, the fresh and old deep cuts on your skin; the broken finger and the sprained wrist you were trying to keep from getting damaged even more.   Didn't blame yourself for leaving them, your Ma, your life...  Would have broken you if you took any more of it without fighting back. 

Had the camping gear in the truck bed, loaded last week when Merle suggested a camping trip.  He cared enough about you in his own way, but got busted for DUI and possession of some serious stuff.  He was in prison and couldn’t help you.  He smirked at you during the short trial you attended only to see his face one last time.  Didn't ask you to take care of Pa and Ma.  You supposed the smirk meant ' _you could be next, lil' brother_ '.  It was not going to go down that way. 

You were sixteen and no one was going to help you.  No one would hire a middle school drop out for any jobs.  No one even gave you a chance.  You slept in the truck or camped out in the woods.  Hunted for food or went fishing.  You learned how to steal, how to pick pockets for cash.  Could’ve done worse, deal drugs like Merle’s buddies, but you kept on trying to survive in other ways.  Other ways, not like Pa or Merle. 

One day you woke up, you were thirty-two, still doing the things to survive that you justified for yourself as being necessary.  Maybe just a little better than when you were sixteen.  Learned that some people would pay for your hunts.  You even had a list of people who would buy whatever game you shot down.  Made cash that way instead of stealing cars and dealing dope like Merle’s friends suggested for you.  Got some nighttime doorman jobs, collecting covers and checking IDs at a few bars near the colleges.  People knew by now not to mess with you.  Some people even genuinely liked you.  And it wasn’t so bad, the way you ended up.   

And for some reason, you went back.  You didn't have that truck anymore, broken down and abandoned long ago.  Bought a motorcycle and got a place to yourself in the not so bad part of Atlanta.  They were yours and you earned them.  You were expecting to see Pa with his shotgun on the front porch, sinking into the old lawn chair with a mug of moonshine in his hand.  You didn't expect to see the house you grew up in all burnt down to nothing.  There were remnants of charred frames of what used to be your room, weed and grass and vines already grown over everything.  There was nothing here for you anymore.  In some ways, it was a relief.  You didn't have to think about it anymore.  You didn't even think about your brother, what he could be doing now, if he’s made parole or not.  All of it was behind you. 

In these woods, sitting on your motorcycle, studying what you left so long ago, you thought, what now?  What do you want? 

And a boy ran across the overgrown yard, as if being chased by something horrible.  You followed the boy, enchanted. 

\---    

   

It's a goddamn Alice in Wonderland plot.  He smirks, dashing through the thick woods.  He gets caught in several overgrown branches and thorny vines.  Endures the cuts and slashes.  It's getting really hot and he severely wants water.  He's glad for the crossbow he's snatched up from the bike, and the knife at his side.  He'd been prepared to face Pa or some wild forest animal, not this.  His legs feel heavy with all the acid shooting through his muscles.  But the boy's not slowing down.  So he tries his best to keep up.  Not even sure it is a boy, but he catches a glimpse of the cap and the shape of his shoulders and waist, and concludes that it is a boy.  Not a small _boy_.  Almost as tall as he is, but lean, and fast.  But he can't describe him in any other way except that it is a boy. 

He is enchanted. 

He's in an unfamiliar part of the woods.  But it's Georgia so he's sure he can find a way out of here somehow.  He thinks about giving up, turning around before it gets too dark.  The sun is high, shining down on him.  Slows down to adjust to the burning in his legs, the need for more oxygen in his lungs too great for him to continue.  Stops to lean against a tree.  He curses quietly, trying to track the boy's steps so he can catch up.  If he's winded, then the boy must be too. 

He follows the tracks, walking quickly.  Then the track's gone, disappeared.  He hoists his crossbow, looking around warily.  Voice behind him makes him jump. 

"Why are you following me?"  The boy says.  Clear, crisp, no harsh breathing like his lungs are fighting for. 

"Why are you runnin’?"  He points the crossbow at him, studying him.  An Asian boy, can't be more than twenty.  He's pale, almost luminescent.  Unlike him, he's not got a single drop of sweat on his skin.  He's wearing a thin white tee shirt and jeans, sneakers.  Plain looking kid, looking like any one of those college kids he's seen at the bars, but out of place.  Out of place, not because he's in the deep neck of the woods, but...  His eyes are older, got these deep, incalculable black eyes he can't help staring into.  He knows this boy but cannot place him anywhere in his memories. 

"Cause you were following me!"  The boy yelps.  " Stop following me!" 

Boy dodges his bow, disappears and in just a blink of an eye, he's running up the woods again.  He tails him.  Still doesn't understand this.  The only word he can use to describe why he’s following this boy is that…  He was enchanted. 

\---   

    

He's at this quarry, wide blue span of water and creek running down.  There's a stream of waterfall.  He's never seen this place.  Can't be more than five miles from where his old house used to be and he's explored farther than that.  The water is so clear and so blue.  The sunlight is making dizzying sparkles on the rippling surface.  He's lost the boy near here.  Can't hear anything, not a single animal, a bird, a frog or insect.  It's irritatingly silent here.  Even the trickling water is soundless.  He tests the temperature of the water, blessedly cool over his hands.  He knows better than to drink forest water without seeing something else do it first, even if it's clear and flowing like this.  Can't find a single fish or any water creature in there.  So he doesn't take a chance.  Just uses it to wash off the sweat from his face and neck. 

He checks the perimeter, the plants and trees growing around the water.  There are no animal prints.  Finds the narrowest point of the creek, wondering if he can cross it.  So he does, getting drenched up to the knees.  When his feet hit the opposite side of the quarry, there's a boom in the sky, around his head.  The sky is so clear without a single trace of a cloud.  Been out and chasing after this boy for hours but the sun remains where it's been, high up there.  Shadow is still short.  Like it hasn't even been a single second since he's started running.  There's another boom.  This time closer.  Vision blacks.  Feels the ground against his face and knows that he's collapsed.  And everything goes dark. 

\---    

    

You knew how much you could take.  You were twelve, getting taller and thicker, like Pa and Merle.  You were getting stronger, too.  But you couldn't get away from the worn belt strap when it hit you across your face.  Hard knuckles at your nose.  You knew well by then what blood tasted like when it poured down from your busted nose all in your mouth.  Mixed with snot.  Couldn’t help it when you tried to gasp for breath, took a punch to the gut and the thickened blood spilled down out your mouth.   

All that because you were doing good at school.  Because your English teacher came to visit your house, said that you were a good student, and because he was concerned about the black-eye and the limp you had all last week.  Pa meant all his threats to the nicest teacher you've ever had, chased him out the house, and you received the worst beating you've ever had to endure.  Ma was screaming but she never got in between you and Pa; she knew better than that.  After what felt like hours, the police kicked in your door.  Took you and Ma out the house before cuffing Pa.  But you didn't say anything to the policemen.  Too tired.  Too beaten.  Too scared. 

Pa came home a few days later and beat you again.  Harder.  And harder.  Until you couldn't get up.  Told you, _you_ _ain't never stepping foot in a schoolhouse again_.  And all you wanted to do was ask, why?  Why was it so bad to do good in school?  All the other kids tried so hard to do what you could do, and their parents rewarded them for doing half as good as you have done.  You weren't asking for anything from Pa, not a reward or even a pat on the head.  All you wanted to do was go to school, be as normal as the rest of them.  You had access to the library, could read as much as you wanted even though you never checked one book out.  But Pa didn't want that for you, didn't want anything _for_ you.  Beat you down until you knew it deep down that you had no future.  Nothing good, ever.  And that damaged you the most.  The acts of being made into what you didn't want to be without a single reason or explanation. 

You went on an errand in town, trying to hide your bruises under your long hair.  The old man at the grocery register put candy in your hand silently.  You tried not to cry with your arm full of milk and bread and eggs in a brown paper bag.  You called your English teacher from a payphone outside, sucking on the sweet minty candy in your mouth so you wouldn't taste the stale blood.  He answered, told you to stay where you were so he could come and get you, to _help_ you, but you only said, _thank_ _you for everything_ and hung up the phone.  Walked home five miles through misty rain, in the damp forest, shivering from the wet coldness wrapping around you. 

And you changed from that day.  You mimicked Pa and Merle, how they spoke, the words they used, how they treated Ma and everyone else.  You spat and smoked, threw cuss words around in everything you said.  Pa beat you less.  Merle looked satisfied.  You thought that this was how you would survive.  You didn't know what you wanted anymore because it got beaten out of you.  And that's how it was.  Until you shoved Pa, hit him back and grabbed whatever stuff you could and ran away.  Got far far away from all of that. 

You wanted something once, a long time ago.  You’ve been trying to find what that was, but it's long lost. 

If you could find what that had been...  If only you could... 

\---   

    

Slap of water over his face startles him awake.  It's dark, even though he can see now.  He's under some kind of shelter made by gnarled roots and branches of trees.  He's never seen these kinds of trees in Georgia before.  The ground is moist and mossy.  It's warm and the scent of bark and fresh leaves cloud all others.  The boy's face pops into his view.  He sits up, bolt straight. 

"What the fuck..."  He manages.  Wiping at his face with his sleeve. 

"You almost died from dehydration, stupid.  Did you think that water out there was poisonous?"  The boy says.  He hands him a canteen.  He doesn't take it immediately, contemplating on the boy. 

The boy sighs, taking a drink from it.  "There.  It's just water." 

He takes the canteen, drinking and drinking and drinking.  He's thirsty, tired and hungry. 

"My crossbow!"  He yells. 

"It's right there."  The boy points to his other side.  The crossbow and his knife are on the ground next to him. 

"I need to get back." 

"It's too dark to go out there.  You’ll get even more lost." 

The boy sits back against the tangled roots.  He's got a backpack.  Rummages through and produces bread rolls and cheese.  He holds them out.  "Eat." 

Even though he's suspicious, he takes the food.  Rips the bread with his teeth, chews and swallows.  It has no taste but it's food.  He finishes the three rolls of bread and the chunk of cheese.  Downs the rest of the water in the canteen. 

"I'm Glenn, by the way."  The boy says to him.  He's playing with a piece of reed. 

He remains silent, trying to figure out what to do next. 

"Hey, Glenn, nice to meet you, thanks for helping me, and sorry about chasing you with a loaded crossbow and buck-knife with killer eyes," Glenn initiates, imitating his voice and accent.  It gets him irritated but he's also amused. 

“What is this place?  Ain’t never seen woods like this and I’ve been through all of these parts.” 

“Really?  You…  You didn’t…  You don’t know what you’re doing here?” 

“No.  I was just followin’ you.” 

“Why?”  The boy's eyes narrow. 

“I’m not sure.” 

“You don’t know what I am?” 

“Just a kid, ain’t ya’?” 

Glenn’s eyes sparkle.  “Is that what you see?  Just a kid?” 

He’s not sure about their conversation.  They’re talking but nothing makes any sense.  Maybe he’s not asking the right questions or maybe…  He’s got head trauma and all of this is just a dream. 

“What is this place?”  He asks.  “Who are you?” 

“What was it that you wanted most when you were little?”  Glenn asks him, ignoring his questions. 

Can’t remember.  Can’t say there was anything.  He takes another sip of water.  Sleepiness overtakes him, like turning the off switch of a room.  He tries to keep his eyes open but fails. 

“Sleep it off, Daryl.  And then…  You’ll know me again…” 

\---    

    

You sat clutching your knees, shirt all torn up, biting down on your lip so hard you can taste blood in your mouth, trying not to cry.  You were hiding in the woods, hidden behind overgrown hedges.  You only had one sneaker, the other lost on the run here.  You were trying so hard to not make any noise.  Could hear Pa calling out to you, threatening to beat you unless you came back in the house.  Either way, he would, so you just prayed that Pa would pass out from drinking too much.  You didn’t do anything, but you didn’t retaliate, didn’t give any excuses.  Just wanted to disappear.   

That was what you felt always.  Wanted to disappear. 

You kept praying, praying to whomever was listening. 

You wanted…  To find someone who would want you for who you were, unlike Pa who didn’t want you, Ma who didn’t care about you, or Merle who turned away from you.  You didn’t want to be different, no, you wanted to remember all of this so you could be better than them.  And you wanted to stop being hurt, you wanted to stop being so afraid, and you wanted all of this pain to stop.  You wanted to get away, to disappear and one day, you did, and then all of the things you didn’t love about your life disappeared from you. 

You… wanted… to be more than what they made you feel like you were.  And you prayed for that. 

\---    

   

It’s bright all around.  He has a mother of a headache and the heat isn’t helping either.  He’s supposed to be inside some kind of shelter but it’s not there.  He’s lying on grass, near the creek.  Crossbow and knife are by his side.  Birds are chirping and frogs are croaking.  Fish jump from the water to catch flies.  After a few minutes he recognizes where he is, a creek he used to come to for swimming in the summer.  He swears that this place is not the place he’s seen the day before.  He wakes up fully after splashing cold creek water over his face.  It’s still fresh and clean water here, so he drinks as much as he wants.  It’s a hike back up to the house.  His memories and knowledge of woods has him back to the plot where his house used to be.  His motorcycle is still there.  Strangely, all covered in rotting leaves, grass grown all around the tires.  Takes goddamn forever to start.  Catches a glimpse in the side mirror.  He almost screams at the reflection. 

The reflection shows his face, covered in long beard and mustache, long hair down to his shoulders.  He looks older than he remembers, wrinkles deep around his eyes, flecks of white in his beard and hair.  The clothes he has on are worn down and thin, full of holes and tears. 

He keeps thinking about everything and nothing on the drive back down.  Bike sounds grating, but after a refuel and some new engine oil, it doesn’t sound too bad.  He knows his own hair and it would take years for it to grow out this long, beard, too.  He stops at the diner he frequents, taking a counter seat.  Orders a coffee and the big breakfast platter, eats and downs the coffee so fast, the waitress is staring at him in disbelief and leaves the pot of coffee in front of him.  He’s about to pay and go but the waitress stops him. 

“Daryl?  Oh my god, is that you under all of that?”  She gestures his chin.  He has to study her for a minute, trying to remember.  Her nametag says ‘Jenny’.  Jenny.  She’d been much slimmer, with a small baby bump growing, and blonde.  Young.  All the boys in town hit on her at least once.  She’d liked him because he never did.  “It’s me, Jenny!  Oh my god, it’s been _years_!!  How are you?  When did you get back into town?” 

“Years?  How many years?” 

“What?”  The question throws her off. 

“How long has it been?  Since I’ve been gone…” 

“Oh my…  Let me see.  Well, the last time I saw you, I was pregnant with my first.  He’s eight now, in grade school, so just about that long I guess.  You just disappeared on us!  Some of our boys thought you got lost in the woods.  Rangers searched for you all over, but since your bike was missing too, we all just assumed you left town.” 

Eight... Nine years?  No…  No, it was just one day.  A single night in the woods, the strange silent forest and the quarry, with its blue water pond.  And…  Something else…  A very important something else. 

Confused and empty-headed, he pays the bill and staggers out of the diner.  He starts the bike and drives to his house.  But there’s an unfamiliar car in the driveway, light on in the kitchen.  Fear tears through him and he knocks on the door.  Yeah, the bank probably seized it after not receiving any mortgage payments, but he needs to see.  He needs to know. 

An Asian kid opens the door.  He looks at him, brow quirked.  He stares at him a second and says, “I didn’t order anything.” 

Daryl stops him before the door closes.  “Ain’t delivering.” 

Kid looks at him like he’s insane.  Of course.  Anyone would.  “What do you want?” 

“This is my house.” 

“Uh, what?”  Kid gets a bar out of his pocket, pressing his thumbs on the lit up screen.  Daryl is interested and confused.  Kid puts it to his ear.  There’s a voice coming through it.  Daryl can see that it’s a phone now, but…  When did cellular phones get so…?  “Yeah, hey, man, there’s a guy here saying that it’s his house.  Yeah, uh, kinda tall, long hair and beard…  Hold up.  Hey, man, what did you say your name was?” 

Kid is talking to him.  “Daryl.”  He adds, “Dixon.” 

Kid speaks into the phone.  “Dixon.  Yeah.  For reals?  Oh man…  What?  Fine.  Okay.  Yeah, I need to go to work though.  You serious?  Fine.  Okay.”  Thumb punches at the surface and back into his back pocket. 

“So, uh, hey, man.  I’m sorry I didn’t…  I mean, you gotta understand…  You scared the shit out of me with your…  Never mind.  Nice to meet you.  I’m Glenn.  I rent your place.”  He takes the offered hand, giving him a firm handshake.  He needs answers but he suddenly feels dizzy. 

“You okay, man?  You look like you’re gonna hurl,” Glenn says, inviting him inside. 

“Need to…  Lay down…”  He goes to the couch, leaning back into it. 

“So like, I mean, are you… back?  Like, you’re going to live here now?  Cause Aaron did tell me it’s probably temporary, getting to live here.” 

“Aaron?”  He has to shuffle through his cloudy memories a little to remember who that was.  It’s like there’s a big roadblock to everything and everyone in his life.  Right…  Aaron.  One of the few friends he’d made, who had helped him find this place and get the bank to give him a mortgage, too.  Good guy.   “Aaron rent this place out to you?” 

“Yeah.  He said you just… left…  He said you were like that.  He assumed you’d come back one day, but wanted to help you, so he let me live here, pay rent to pay the mortgage, under the knowledge that you’ll most likely just come back one day and kick me out.  So…”  There are ping noises from the kid’s pocket.  He pulls the phone out and punches the glass with his thumbs a few times.  “Man, it’s kinda cool that you came back and all?  Like, Aaron and his friends were all worried that you got lost or something, or got killed in the woods.  Freaked me out at first so I was hoping that you would come back.  You know, being dead isn't cool.  I forgot about it though…  It’s been about seven years since I’ve been living here.” 

Head aches worse.  And he wants to go to sleep.   

“I’ve got to go to work now.  Aaron’s going to be by soon, he said.  And uh…  We put most of your stuff in the garage and the spare room.  But…  I’ll ask now.  I don’t have anywhere to go.  And it’s going to take me some time to find an apartment, so can you give me like a week at least until I have somewhere to go?” 

“What?  Oh…  Yeah.  Let’s…  talk later.” 

Daryl closes his eyes, arm falling over them.  He hears the kid shuffling around the rooms.  Doors opening and closing.  Sound of the water tab in the kitchen. 

“Here’s some aspirin.  I’ll leave it on the table in front of you.  I’ll…  See you later.” 

Front door opens and shuts.  The small Honda parked in the driveway starts with a very loud kick, roaring away down the street. 

“What the hell…” 

\---   

    

You ran away when your Pa found you.  Ran fast, even as your one foot was bleeding, stepping on wood debris or maybe a shard of glass your Pa or Merle tossed into the trees.  You didn’t know, and it hurt, but you ran.  You ran until all you could hear was your breathing and your heart pumping.  You found yourself at this place, a quarry all lit up in lights although you knew it was still night time.  The water sparkled bright, the leaves of trees glowing in bright white light.  You let yourself cry for a minute before cleaning the bleeding foot, your face.  And you fell asleep in the alcove the roots of these old trees made.  You weren’t scared here.  You felt safe and wanted to stay.   

That’s what you thought as you fell asleep.  You wanted to stay here. 

    

\---    

    

Aspirin certainly helps plus keeping his eyes closed.  He almost falls asleep except the front door bursts open.  Aaron runs into the small living room.  Hugs him until he’s lightly punching at him to let go.  He wants to explain but he can’t, because there is _nothing_ in there.  He can’t fill the blank spaces, the _years_.  They are all lost to him.  At least his headache is gone. 

Aaron explains to him about the house first, even though he’s put two and two together already.  He tells him about after his disappearance, how everyone searched for him.  And eventually, they all just assumed he took off.  He also talks about Merle, who’d come to find him, and left the next day saying nothing about his disappearance.  Daryl nods at the mention of Merle.  So his brother is out of prison and had come looking for him.  He doesn’t know how he should react to that.  After what feels like an hour of news, Aaron laughs and says, “Do me a favor and go take a shower.  You’ll feel better.  And smell better.” 

He sends Aaron out to get him a toothbrush and shaving razor.  Shower is good.  Hot water on his face, the spray drumming over skin relaxes him.  He uses the cheap shampoo in the booth, thinking the kid won’t mind.  Washes his hair and scrubs his skin good with soap about three times, letting his body soak under the hot water for a good long while before turning the shower off.  Dries himself with one of the large clean towels, really hoping that the kid won’t mind him using any of his stuff.  Aaron’s left the new toiletries on the counter.  After his teeth feel sufficiently clean, he sets to trimming the god-awful beard.  He doesn’t feel confident enough to cut his own hair, so he leaves it for now.  Now that he looks fit enough for civilization, or at least his house, he steps out of the steamy bathroom. 

He can really study his house.  It is his, but doesn’t feel like his.  A lot of the furniture are his, but he can’t exactly remember now.  Kitchen looks about the same, except the coffeemaker is new.  So is the microwave.  His had been pretty old and falling apart.  The refrigerator even has food in it.  All he’s ever had was creamer for coffee and maybe some condiments and beer.  The bedroom is different.  The bed is bigger than his, all made up and soft looking. 

“We moved your bed and some of the clothes into the spare room.  It creeped Glenn out for awhile.  He said it felt like we all couldn’t let go of you so we’re keeping some kind of shrine to you.”  Daryl laughs at that.  “He’s a good kid.  Keeping that room for you.  Never missed a rent pay.” 

“Hrm.” 

“He works at the big hardware store, down by Washington?  Manager, so he’s got a pretty good income.” 

Daryl looks through the spare room.  His bed is pushed against the wall, no sheets or cover, just the mattress with a big plastic tarp covering it.  The dresser is his, so are the clothes hanging in the closet, in the exact order he’d left that day.  That day, when he’d taken a drive up to his folks’. 

“Daryl, I’m so glad that you’re back, man.  I’ve gotta go open the bar now.  You’re welcome to swing by.  There’s going to be some people who will be very happy to see that you’re back.” 

“I went to my folks’.  All burnt down and…  That’s where I went.” 

“Uh,” Aaron pauses.  “That’s one of the first places we tried.  The police helped us to track down some old reports to find where your parents lived.  There was nothing there.” 

“My bike was there.” 

“No, it wasn’t.  Look.  Maybe everything will come back in a few days.  You need to take it easy, eat, drink plenty and rest.  We'll talk again later.  I’ll see ya.  Oh, and here’s my cell number.  Call me if anything.” 

After Aaron leaves, Daryl stands in the room, trying to remember.  Something.  Anything.  He gives up, finding some clothes to wear.  Thinks about sleeping.  Goes outside to grab his knife and crossbow off the bike.  He spends the afternoon disassembling the crossbow, oiling and cleaning up the parts.  Finds sheets and a blanket in the closet.  Throws them on the mattress and rolls up the towel he’d used to make a pillow because he’s too tired to find one.  Doesn’t think he’ll fall asleep, but he does.  Quickly.  Dreams of a hidden quarry in the woods, searching for something. 

\---   

   

You were a little thing, all cut up and bruised; a skinny scared little thing.  You slept for a long time in the warmth of the trees.  The trees protected you like you were one of theirs.  You found things to eat, berries, fruits, roots in the ground, knew they were not going to poison you.  You healed quickly. 

You spent days here, weeks, months.  Here, where the water was blue and cool, where there was nothing but the flora and fauna and the silence.  You were alone but didn't feel so alone.  You felt someone was nearby, someone who wanted you to stay here, someone who wanted to protect you.  But you wanted to go back, to face your Pa, Merle, to grow older. 

"I'll come back," you said.  Your small hand touched the roots of the trees, the branches and the vine covered trunks, promising them, and all the small flowers, the clear blue water that you would come back.  You stared at the present nothing, and you promised you would be back.  "When I'm older.  When I'm ready, I'll come back." 

You left the silent forest, left all the shimmer and everlasting summer.  Merle found you curled up inside a rotten hole in a tree.  He carried you back to the house, put you to bed, kept Pa from beating you.  When you woke up, he said you've only been gone a day.  You swore you were gone for weeks.  And Merle laughed at you, said you must have been dreaming it.  But you don't have any of the bruises on your skin.  It never occurred to Merle that that was a strange thing.  Kept Pa away for only a day. 

And you forgot about all of it.  You forgot about the promise. 

\---    

    

He wakes up to smell of food.  Glenn knocks at your bedroom door, saying, "I brought some dinner.  You wanna eat?" 

It sounds good.  Just a bunch of Chinese take-out in paper boxes.  But it's good.  And he's brought a six-pack, too. 

"Ain't never figured a Chinese guy orderin' Chinese food take-out." 

Glenn glances over at him, amusement in his eyes.  "I'm Korean." 

"Don't matter." 

Glenn sighs heavily.  "Whatever man.  Oh, and hey, I think I got a place through a co-worker.  I can move out probably by next week.  If...  That's still okay." 

Daryl looks up from the plate he's been staring into.  Food isn't agreeing with his stomach.  Hasn't thought about that until Glenn's brought it up.  "Have we met before?" 

Glenn tilts his head.  "No...  I don't think so?" 

"I used to work some nights at Aaron's bar, checkin' kids' IDs and collecting cover.  You coulda been one of those college kids." 

"Couldn't have been.  Never went to college.  Bars aren't really my thing." 

Daryl's eyebrow quirks at that.  He has to brush back some hair from his face.  He's going to get a haircut first thing in the morning.  He studies the kid, eating, taking sips from the bottle of beer. 

"You old enough to drink?" 

"I'm almost thirty, man.  Don't mess with me.  I get that all the time." 

Daryl smirks.  He knows this kid from somewhere.  He can swear on...  But he can't place him. 

"You can stay, if ya' want." 

"Hmm?"  Glenn meets his eyes.  Deep, sparkling, black pools.  So familiar... 

"You can stay.  I don't have income, yet, and you've been payin' the mortgage.  Might as well be yours."  Daryl finishes the bottle.  Feels the alcohol warm him up.  "I guess I should be the one askin' if I can stay.  If you don't mind bein' roommates with a redneck." 

The ends of Glenn's mouth twitch, finally forming a smile.  "Well, since you're asking." 

\---   

    

It's not bad, living with this kid.  He's mostly at work on the weekdays.  Stays out with friends on Fridays and Saturdays.  Sleeps in all day on Sundays.  Or tries to.  Daryl makes coffee and fresh orange juice and buttery pancakes and waffles and eggs and bacon as early as he can, making a lot of noise.  And Glenn always crawls out of his bedroom into the kitchen and settles at the island stool, clutching his head.  Daryl doesn't admit it but he likes the kid like this, all sleep tangled hair and alcohol-induced puffiness, begging Daryl in his hoarse voice for coffee. 

Last night, Daryl had helped Aaron at the bar instead of the door.  Glenn had been there with a few friends, awkward as anything, bumping into people who were dancing on the floor.  He'd watched him as Glenn got hit on by more than a handful of girls and guys, who bought him drinks, got drunk, but at the end of the night let Daryl drive him home on his motorcycle.  Laughed to himself at Glenn's bright red face, his stumbling walk up to the front door.   

"Thought you didn't like bars." 

"I don't.  I hate getting drunk." 

"Can't hold yer liquor, huh." 

"No, I can't." 

It's actually quite nice to have this kid around.  Someone to talk to over dinner, if they get to eat together.  Glenn's into baseball and tries to catch as many games on TV as he can, lets him sit beside him on the sofa, munching on chips and popcorn, drinking beers.  Glenn's a lightweight and he's a happy drunk after two bottles of beer.  Talks his head off when he is, but it's still better than what he's used to.   

Since he doesn't make much cash, Daryl tries to contribute to the expenses when he can.  Makes up for the lack in other ways, like cleaning, doing the laundry, washing dishes, fixing Glenn's beat-up Honda.  Glenn doesn't mind, writing up the check for the rent and paying the other bills on his laptop. 

One day, Glenn says, "Do you remember stuff?  From you know..." 

"No.  Still don't." 

"Well, I thought that if you caught up with what happened in the world in the last eight years, then you might remember where you were and all?  So I got you this..." 

It's a smartphone.  Like the one he's seen _everyone_ carry around.  Glenn spends the entire night teaching him how to use it, take pictures and explaining about social media.  He finds Google useful, staying up reading articles until the morning.  He gets why everyone has one of these. 

Aaron and his other friends suggest he go see a doctor.  So he does, who after several hours of tests and scans tells him that there's nothing physically wrong with him.  That he's actually in great shape.  He recommends a shrink, but Daryl says no to that.  Doctor says, "Maybe something will trigger it.  Don't stress so much.  The human brain is a wonderful, complex thing." 

It's a slow night at the bar that night, so he helps Aaron clean up the backroom.  Past owner used it as a storage but Aaron has other ideas for the space.  There's a chirp from his pocket.  After wiping the sweat from his face, he pulls out his phone.  It's a text message from Glenn. 

'How did the doctor thing go?' 

It takes him longer to type his answer.  Buttons are too small.  'Nothing wrong.' 

A series of messages come rather quickly. 

'That's awesome   
OMG   
Saw a mouse in kitchen    
U gotta come home   
Im borrowing your knife so   
I can stab at it   
if it comes near me.' 

He presses the wrong buttons.  Keyboard turns into a whole bunch of tiny pictures.  His stupid thumb presses the enter key.  There's a small red balloon on his conversation bubble. 

Glenn answers, 'WTH   
I'm so f serious!!   
Ur xbow is heavy   
Im gonna get this mouse' 

Daryl smiles for a long time.  Aaron stares at him, unbelieving that his old friend could have a smile like that, staring into his phone screen.  Daryl says, "I gotta go home.  Glenn's going to fire my bow at a mouse in the kitchen." 

"God, go!  Go home!" 

Home.  It's his home.  Their home.  A place he wants to return to. 

\---   

    

You found this place again.  You, all grown up now, found this place again.  You didn't know what you want, you said, you just went back to the house where you grew up, just to see how it was.   

And you saw _me_.   

\---   

    

"I wanted to be a pilot when I was younger," Glenn states, thumb vengefully hitting the buttons on his controller.  They're playing this versus game, one Daryl is a little more used to, one he might have played though much more antiquated than this version.  But he's beaten Glenn three times in a row, shocking the younger man to no ends.  They are in the third round of their fourth game and it looks like he'll win again.  This is much better than those shooting games Glenn's obsessed with, or the ones where the character goes around finding treasures or something.  All that three-dimension stuff gives him a headache but Glenn enjoys them.  He gets a K.O.  But it doesn't feel as satisfying like the first win. 

"Why didn't you?”  Daryl asks him, setting the controller down on the coffee table. 

“I…  My parents thought… It would be better for me to have a better goal for myself.  They wanted me to grow up, go to an Ivy League school, be a lawyer or a doctor or a professor.  So instead I went to a community college.  Dropped out during the first semester, started working some jobs.”  Glenn shuts down the game console.  Stretches and yawns.  “Plus I was afraid of heights so…” 

Daryl lays a hand on Glenn’s shoulder.  Gives him a nice rub, squeezing the tightened muscles there. 

“Pa used to beat me.  Beat me for making trouble, for playing with my friends, for no reason but just to beat me.  Mean drunk.  Ma, too, never helped.  She just sat in bed, drinking her wine.  He beat me once for doing good at school.  Made me drop out in the seventh grade.” 

Glenn turns looking up into his face.  He doesn’t say that he’s sorry, doesn’t judge him or his parents.  Doesn’t try to tell him that he’s still good despite all the things he’d gone through.  Doesn’t pretend to understand.  Doesn’t ignore the scars either.  Unlike some people.  Some people tells him things like they’re sorry about his past, that it’s not his fault and suddenly they have an insight to what it had been like.  Feel good later about saying the right things to an abused person.  And always have that look in their eyes, a little sad, a little glad that they haven’t been beat up so bad, and a little avoidance, diverting their glances from meeting his.  He’s met plenty of people like that, but Glenn isn’t. 

“How did you get this one?”  He points at a scar on his shoulder. 

Glenn... he meets them straight forward. 

“Ashtray got thrown at me.  One of them was still burning hot.” 

“And this?” 

“That was a fishing accident.  Mine.  Not his.” 

“And this?” 

“Tried to grip something to get back up.  That something was the stove, still burning.” 

Glenn gets quiet, studying the scar.  Fingertips graze over them, soft then probing.   

“What happened to them?  Your parents?” 

“I don’t know.  Don’t care.” 

“If you could…  If you were to meet them again, what would you say to them?” 

Daryl chews at his lip.  His head buzzes, a moment of déjà vu coursing through him.  He’s heard this question before.  But it’s gone.  “I would want to know…  If they loved me at all.” 

Glenn’s arms wrap around his shoulders, tightening over his neck.  Hugs him.  Genuinely hugs him.  Its warmth overwhelms him, makes his brain itch to try to remember this, because he's felt this before.  Somewhere. 

“They should have.  They probably did at one point but got lost along the way.  But know that there is someone who loves you now, who’ll love you forever.  There is…  Even if you don’t remember.  There has always been.” 


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 2 chapters because it was so long. :)

\---    

    

When you began to trust me, you let me show you the forest.  You let me lead you up and down the forest, show you the living trees who would yield their branches for us to pass through.  You saw the rabbit holes and the sleeping bears, the deer with big antlers and mountain lions who showed you their sharp teeth, and you trusted me.  Nothing in the forest would have hurt you.  They loved you for who you were.  You were there because you promised you would come back.  All of it was yours as all was mine.  After each day, you began to remember.  You remembered this place, how empty and silent, but at the same time how teeming with life it was.  You remembered your child-self, finding your way here, healed, warm and pleasant, and the promise you made. 

You never asked me who I was.  I was just me as you were simply you.  It didn’t matter anymore who you were or who I was. 

You knew that I knew you.  Everything about you, all of your memories, all of the things you felt at each, every moment, were my memories and I felt each and every one of them with you.  Tried to hold you, tried to protect you and wanted to be there for you.  You made me real, just as you made this place real.  And I made you real. 

Each day passed in bright sunlight, warm and silent.  It rained when you wanted rain.  It snowed when you wanted it.  The sky faded into night for as long as you wanted.  There was food to eat when you needed it, fresh water to drink for you, sweet nectar flavored wine for you.  You said you wanted to be here forever.  I said I wanted to be here with you forever and ever.  Laying with you on the blanket of moss, touching you, kissing you, making love to you, to make you happy, because I wanted it, too.  You looked peaceful, for a very long time.  You said you knew what being loved felt like and that you were content with it. 

But you wanted to leave.  You said you needed to return to your life.  Rain began to fall to keep you from leaving.  Thunderstorm and lightning.  Wild animals bared their fangs.  Water turned torpid then clouded into muddiness. 

You said you wanted me to come with you. 

I couldn’t refuse but I couldn’t leave either. 

You asked what you needed to do. 

I didn’t have an answer.  Rainwater began to freeze around me.  You held me, to share your warmth but it wasn’t enough.  I could only wrap my arms around your neck, to hold you to me.  I would have done anything to keep you here.  Anything.  But I let you go. 

\---    

    

He’s mowing the lawn.  And when he starts mowing his yard, he has to mow five yards.  It’s an entire day’s task, but he doesn’t have work tonight.  He waves at Ms. Carrie who steps out the house when he begins at the side of her house.  Ms. Elaine hands him a big glass of pink lemonade.  He doesn’t mind it cutting their grass.  Ms. Jodie is probably baking him one of her blueberry pies.  It’s worth it, because Glenn loves her blueberry pies. 

It’s sunset when he’s finally done, closing the garage door after stowing the mower in.  Ms. Jodie’s pie is sitting on his porch next to the meatloaf Ms. Patty handed him.  Glenn’s going to be home soon; promised beer and a round of black jack if ‘you get Ms. Jodie to bake you another pie’.  He decides to warm up the dinner and maybe a quick shower.   

An unfamiliar motorcycle catches his eyes.  A thick set man climbs off it.  His voice makes his eyes water. 

“Well, well, well.  If it ain’t my lil’ brother.  Found yer way back home, did ya?  It’s yer dear old brother.  Did ya miss me?” 

He’s turning into a child again.  Small.  Helpless.  He backs up into the garage door.  No… 

Glenn’s Honda pulls into the driveway.  Merle’s eyebrow quirk at the new presence.  Glenn’s looking over at him, too.  Instead of waiting for Daryl to introduce them, he walks over, putting a hand out.  Merle’s shaking his hand, mouth curled up venomously. 

“You must be Daryl’s older brother.  Merle, right?  I’m Glenn.” 

“You are a ‘friend’ of my little brother?” 

“Uh…  I kinda live here.  We’re…”  Daryl hopes he says the right thing.  “We’re housemates.  I pay rent to live here.” 

“Uh huh.”  The disdain is too obvious.  Daryl steps forward. 

“C’mon inside.  Have dinner.”  Glenn invites him in. 

He leaves Merle to look over the small house while he takes a quick shower to get grass smell off his body.  Glenn’s made himself useful and put the dinner in the oven.  Dinner is silent except for Merle barking out his stories about prison and trying to find him.  He can tell Merle’s going to let Glenn being Asian slide, after the ice cold beer he’s brought.  The night is different than he’d planned and he’s pissed off. 

“So where’re you staying?  Me and Glenn…  We got work tomorrow so we’ll probably turn in early.” 

“I’m staying right here.” 

“There’s no spare room.  I mean… It’s a small house.” 

“Couch looks comfortable.”  And shoots a glance over at Glenn.  “Isn’t it?  The couch?” 

Glenn smiles.  He’s barely touched his slice of pie.  “Yeah.  It’s comfortable…”  Takes a deep breath.  “You can sleep in my room, Merle.  I just have to grab a few things for the morning.  Don’t want to disturb you.” 

“Good boy,” Merle sneers. 

Daryl can’t take it.  He doesn’t want to.  He’s not a little kid anymore.  Merle or even his Pa can’t order him around, and most of all they can’t manipulate Glenn like that. 

“I think you should stay at the motel off route nineteen.” 

“Did you just say what I think I heard?” 

“Yeah.  If you’re too drunk to drive, I’ll call you a cab.  I’ll give you cash for a room, too.” 

Merle stands up, knocking the chair down in the process. 

“Yer kickin’ out yer own brother?” 

“You haven’t been a brother to me for a good long time.  I don’t have a brother anymore, Merle.  You…  You deserted me!  You left when I needed--!  I don’t want you here!  Go!” 

Merle looks like he got punched in the face.  Hadn’t thought that Merle had that in him. 

“No.  Daryl.  You can’t just make him leave.  Please.  Merle, stay for the night.  I’ll…  I’ll…” 

“You’ll what?!”  Daryl screams at Glenn.  Chest aches because he doesn’t want to be…  He doesn’t want it to be like this… 

“I’ll sleep on the couch!  It’s not a big deal.  But you can’t make him leave like this!”  And Glenn yells back. 

Merle starts laughing, clapping his hands.  “This is too good to be true.  This lil’ Chinese kid domesticated you, is that it?” 

“He’s Korean!”  Daryl yells.  He’s seething.  “If you’re going to stay the night you’re sleeping in my room.  And don’t argue or make any more comments or I’m going to physically throw you out.” 

\---    

   

Tír na nÓg 

You asked me what it was.  If it were really a land of the young.  Told you that everything else is except you.  You just slow down.  The concept of time was different here than what you know.  You nodded watching the ever bright sky.  The tall thick trees were as old as time itself, the animals all older than the history of humans.  It was always what it had been.  And you came here on your own, once, because you wished to disappear.  You stumbled in here as a child.  The trees invited you in, lifting their heavy branches, stepping their roots away so you could find your way in.  But you wanted to leave.  The trees lifted their roots to make a path for you, didn’t try to grab at you because you promised you would come back.  You came back.  You came back and spent an infinity with me, the trees, the animals, the deep water and all the things that made this place what it was.  You came here again because  you didn't know what you wanted.  Your wish manifested a person who could help you; me.  In these woods, you learned that you could be who you always wanted to be. 

But you wanted to leave again. 

It wasn’t possible for me to go with you. 

Then you said that you wanted to forget everything completely if you couldn’t have me. 

So the trees, the wise old animals, the moon, the sun, even the littlest stars in the sky granted it for you. 

And I made a wish, too.  That if you fell in love with me out there, even when you forgot all of this, all about us, that they’ll grant us a forever we both wished for.  To have you back. 

\---    

    

Daryl ends up sharing Glenn's bed because he can't sleep on the couch for much longer.  It isn't awful, Merle being home, actually, and he's gone most of the day, coming home around supper time, complaining about the food they have for the evening, but finishes his plate.  He watches the games with Daryl, sits on the sofa with a beer in his hand when Glenn's playing a video game.  Merle isn't like how he remembers him.  Only that he snores loud enough to bring the ceiling down on them. 

It's been about five weeks since Merle's been staying at the house.  Glenn doesn't seem to mind much.  Only that he's quieter when Merle's there, but he can't stop talking altogether anyway.  Daryl refuses to make Glenn pay for half of the monthly bills, now that Merle's living there, so to make more money Daryl takes a shift driving a school bus through the city, which surprises a lot of people.  So sleeping on the couch makes his back ache a lot.  Glenn offers to switch, and they bicker over it for a few days.  Until Daryl just invades the bed one tired night.  From then, they've been sharing the larger bed in the master bedroom. 

It is awkward at first but he gets used to it.  Glenn falls asleep with no problems, murmuring a good night to him.  One hand under the pillow, the other curled under his chin, sleeping on his stomach.  Daryl had glimpsed at his sleeping form, just because his mind churned that way, and had felt okay about it.  Comfortable.  Easy.  And he'd slept well, too.  Waking up with Glenn so very close to him had startled him, but he saw the single blanket wrapped around his body and only a tiny corner on Glenn.  He'd felt bad but amused.  In his still sleepy state had put his lips to Glenn's forehead, shedding the blanket to cover Glenn with it.  Realizing what he'd just done, quickly left the house to get to the bus job. 

Merle either hasn't noticed their new sleeping arrangement, or maybe he doesn't care.  He never speaks about it.  He doesn't speak much about anything.  He's always gone during the day.  Comes home at night. 

One night, after picking up waffles and fried chicken because he and Glenn secretly love them, he'd come home to Glenn rubbing Merle's back over the toilet. 

"He's really sick," Glenn explains.  And Merle hadn't pushed him away.  Doesn't say anything about the palm rubbing a circle over his back. 

"Ya' wanna try the Emergency Room?" Daryl asks. 

"No!  No.  I'll be fine.  It's probably a goddamn stomach flu."  Coughs and gags but doesn't throw up.  Goes to bed right away after cleaning up some. 

The extra portion of waffles and chicken are stored in the refrigerator.  Dinner is quiet, Glenn picking through the chicken with his fork instead of eating with his two hands, smearing his mouth in grease and crummies like he usually does.  Glenn finally asks quietly, "What do you think is wrong with him?" 

"Dunno.  Could be anything.  Could be just his stomach." 

"He's getting thin.  He's... weaker." 

Daryl agrees.  Merle looks sallow, too quiet, none of that torrent of violent energy in him.  "We should take him to see a doctor." 

"Yeah.  I'll take him tomorrow.  I can take a few hours off." 

Daryl tilts his head at Glenn.  "How come you're so good to him?" 

Glenn smiles sadly.  "He's your brother.  You love him." 

The melancholy in his voice bothers Daryl.  But he doesn't push.  Just cleans up the plates and storing leftovers.  They sit and watch an old comedy show, volume low, just to do something without having to move.  Just to stay up without thinking or talking because neither wants to go to sleep just yet.  The characters on TV are amusing and Glenn should be laughing at the screen, but he doesn't.  Head falls on Daryl's shoulder, mouth parted in sleep.  Daryl sits with him for as long as he could.  Turns the television off, the lamps in the living room.  Carries Glenn into the bedroom so he can sleep comfortably.  Night turns into day, as he listens to Glenn breathing softly, shuffling around in his dream. 

"Daryl..."  Glenn mumbles in his dream.  "Daryl... Stay... here... with me..." 

\---    

   

You laughed more than you've ever done in your life.  It was a clear resonating sound, filling up this silent forest.  The first half of your time spent with me here can be described as _happy_.  Every moment you discovered, every small thing of this forest made you happy.  You said you may be beginning to heal. 

You talked about a good happy time in your life.  You were very small, the memory faint and distant.  Your Pa still had a job and your Ma only drank a glass of wine with a meal, and Merle held you often.  Pa drove the family across the state to see the ocean, to walk on the beach, went to have a nice seafood dinner.  That was the last nice memory you have.  And after, it was all the same sort of pain.  And you forgot them when you were in here. 

You caught fish out of the blue water with your bare hands.  Laughing as you did.  Made fire to cook it and said it was very good fish.  You climbed the trees to see how far you would be able to.  As you slipped and fell the trees caught you, carefully embracing you in their soft fingers, making sure you had not one scratch on you.  You made the place brighter with your presence and your sincere smiles. 

You sat under the warm cave the trees made for you with their heavy roots and leaved branches, curled your knees under your chin, watching the gentle rain fall and fall.  The million drops of water made drumming sounds over you, because you wanted to hear the rain, and you reached out to touch me.  Said you wanted to make love to me. 

You were gentle, loving and tender.  Kissed every inch of skin carefully and softly.  Held me tightly, watching me shiver in spite of myself, feeling so conscious of all the life around that would feel what you felt, what I felt.   

You asked afterwards, "Why did you let me?" 

"I am who I am because you want me to be." 

You understood yet you didn't. 

"What were you... before?" 

You waited patiently for an answer. 

"I think the best word is...  An Abstract.  An idea or...  A figment of your imagination.  Children refer to these Abstracts as...  A Fairy." 

You touched my skin again.  Pressing, testing. 

"But you're real." 

"I am.  Because you needed me to be.  And I'll always be real until the day you don't want me to be." 

"What were you called before?" 

"People called me... _Tír_ _na_ _nÓg_.  I was as much part of this forest as these trees, those animals, the water, the sky, the moss we lay on." 

You were fascinating.  Even though I've loved and cared for all the children who needed this forest, you were... different.  You promised and you...  I loved you...  I loved you back. 

"I'm happy here.  Can I stay forever?" 

"Forever.  For all eternity.  And I would love you much longer than that." 

\---   

    

He can be stubborn but Merle is ten times worse.  He sits on the couch like mule and refuses to see a doctor.  He and Glenn leave for work in surrender.  He has a late shift at Aaron's bar, which he goes to straight after the final bus route.  When he gets home very late, Glenn's already in bed.  Merle is in the same spot on the couch.  But he's reading a book.  He has on reading glasses he's never seen before.  When he is noticed, Merle closes it, setting it on the coffee table.  It's a copy of _Peter_ _Pan_ , one of his. 

"Ya always liked book readin'."  Merle muses. 

“You should be in bed.  If you ain’t gonna see a doctor, at least eat and sleep well.” 

“I always thought you’d be better’n me.  With yer book readin’ and all.  You was always a smart kid.” 

Daryl looks down at his boots.  He doesn’t know what to say. 

Merle gets up, stretching is back.  Daryl is ready to catch him or help him to the bed but Merle smirks at him. 

“Didn’t need to see a doctor.  I already know what I got.  I’ve got cancer, lil’ brother.  And,” Merle makes him shut his mouth with a finger held up.  “It’s already too late.  They found it when I was in prison.” 

“Why didn’t you say nothin’ before?!” 

Merle brings the finger to his mouth, shushing.  He points to Glenn’s bedroom.  “Thought I had more time.  Thought I would be able to see ya, see that yer alive and be on my way.  But I saw you…  And…” 

Merle sighs.  It is hard to admit his feelings, Daryl can tell. 

“…And I wanted to be a part of yer life, even if…  Even if you hated me.  Just for a short while.” 

The end of his nose prickles dangerously.  He looks away to keep the moisture gathering in his eyes to not fall.  Stares at the dark corner of the room for a long time.  Can’t help the sniff. 

“I don’t hate you, Merle.  Yer my brother.”  Daryl looks at Merle.  He’s shrunken, height and mass, smaller than the brother and man he remembers from his youth.  Skin has thinned and stretched, like he’s wearing another skin over his withered muscles.  It’s Merle, but it’s not.  Tear falls out of eye.  “I love ya.” 

Merle’s face lights up for a second, eyes wet and mouth twitching.  Dixons don’t say ‘love’.  And Merle won’t say it back to him.  Daryl feels it though, on his brother’s face, in his eyes, on the twitching ends of his lips. 

“When I got here, I thought you’d kick me off yer property for sure.  You don’t know how happy it makes me…  To see that yer finally happy.  That you got someone like Glenn in yer life.  That, I am most happy for.  That yer loved.” 

\---    

   

Merle gets worse as the weeks pass, and months.  He’s coughing and spitting blood into a handkerchief.  He can’t get up most of the time, barely makes it to the couch so he can watch the game, at least.  Still wants to drink his beers.  He doesn’t hold food down most of the time.  When he does though, he looks better.  When he doesn’t, he can’t even sleep. 

Daryl wants him to get treatment but Merle refuses, adamant that it’s only temporary, all the sickness, and it’ll all fade into nothing, soon.  It’s Glenn who gets Merle to go see a doctor about pain medication.  Daryl doesn’t know what Glenn’s said to his brother to agree on a car ride.  They come back two hours later with a big shopping bag of prescriptions.  Glenn is the one who fills the daily morning, noon and night pill box, with Daryl watching helplessly.  There are more kinds of medication than he’s ever thought possible.  At the most he had thought two types of painkillers.  Glenn tries to explain what each pill is for, but none of it sinks in.  He silently pours a cool glass of water and three different pills on a napkin for his brother. 

Merle doesn’t feel better with the medication but he doesn’t get worse.  He can eat a little more and hold it in.  He’s angry about the no beer policy but Glenn talks to him again.  Daryl washes the dishes and cleans the kitchen counter, straining himself to hear. 

“…so he gets more time with you…”  Glenn’s words are soft but crisp. 

“I know…  burden…” Merle refutes. 

“Never.”  Is loud and clear.  “…owe him that…” 

Daryl wishes he hasn’t heard.  Wishes that Merle could figure things out on his own.  That Glenn is a little less insightful.  Sighs heavily and wipes his hands dry. 

“I gotta go to bed.  Early shift tomorrow.  Good night.”  He squeezes Merle’s thinned shoulder.  Merle asks him to hand him a book.  One he wants Merle to read.  He picks a book of poetry, one he favors, that Pa would have beaten him for reading.  Merle nods, tells him to go to sleep, he can’t sleep much lately with all the pills and painkillers. 

He lays for awhile, staring up at the ceiling.  Can’t sleep and it’s cold in the room.  He hates himself for thinking when Merle is gone, when he’s dead, what sort of funeral he should have for him.  Their family have no plot.  He doesn’t even know where his parents are buried, if they were ever properly buried.  He hates himself because he should be thinking about how to help, how to keep Merle alive, not preparing a funeral in his head.  It’s the stubborn son of a…  No.  He corrects himself.  If he’d been that determined, he would have kept quiet about his sickness until his deathbed or disappear again for good.  Merle is preparing him to lose his brother, mentally and physically, remaining inside his home, his life, because he wants to be die beside him.  Merle is ready.  He’s probably been since he found out.  Merle is trying to take whatever he can of him with him, to have his only family there, even if he’s a burden.  And he can’t deny him that.  But what about Glenn? 

If it had been the old Merle, like the Merle who came back into his life again, that first night, he would have kicked Glenn out, cursed at him and wounded him somehow.  But…  It’s like he’s accepted Glenn as a part of his final process.  Like he should be there, too.  Because…  Glenn makes him happy?  Because he can’t imagine his life without Glenn anymore. 

The door opens quietly, a tiny scrape of the carpet at the widest point, closing out the orange light of the living room.  There are small sounds of Glenn removing clothes, putting on his pajamas and carefully climbing onto the bed, not wanting to disturb Daryl.  There’s a quiet sigh as he settles into sleep.  And Daryl pulls him into his arms, into a hard embrace, pinning him down to the mattress with his weight. 

Because it feels right.  It has been, it has to be, it can’t be anything else, this feeling inside him.  It’s been too large for him to comprehend fully, and now he understands. 

Meets Glenn’s startled eyes, deep and dark in the lightless room.  And Daryl whispers, “Thank you.” 

He doesn't know exactly what he's thanking him for, except that he is, and he's thankful for Glenn's presence, his warmth and his bearing. 

Glenn pulls his face down, mouths parting for each other, sharing a deep, heartbreaking and familiar kiss.  So familiar…  It’s inside his head somewhere.  When they separate, it is only to remove whatever clothing they have on.  It, too, the act of moving together and against one another is in his memory.  He just can’t place himself in that memory but it is his own.  It is distant yet makes his chest constrict tightly.  They move rhythmically, trying to keep the noises down to startled gasps and heavy, controlled breathing.  When Daryl pushes himself into Glenn, there are explosions inside his shut eyelids.  This, too, feels so familiar.  Trembling masses and sweating, heated mess, wanting to feel every inch of each other, as if to memorize them, or to remember them again.  Glenn whispers sweetly into his ear, honeyed praises and adorations, curling in and shattering his release from the pleasure Daryl spends inside him.  Daryl chants Glenn’s name, body loosened and relaxed, holding Glenn’s head and waist, laying deep into the pillow they are sharing at the moment. 

Daryl says again, “Thank you.” 

Glenn sheds hot tears, swollen lips lifting into a smile. 

\---   

   

You did not ask questions.  As time went on, endless time on endless time, you became silent, as noiseless as the trees and sky.  You looked into the water often, took long swims in the deepest parts of the pool, diving in for as long as you dared, coming up only for air.  Your eyes were not looking at me anymore.  You looked through me and I felt invisible again.  You held me in sleep but you did not hold _me_. 

You willed rain more often than not, getting yourself drenched for hours and days and weeks.  You forgot to eat.  You did not drink.  You were not breathing.  You said you did not feel alive in here. 

You were safe.  You were loved.  What more could you want? 

You told me to come with you, leave this place behind, and really _live_.  You tried to make me understand.  I only wanted to keep you from the hurt and pain and be with you forever. 

"Doesn't one life spent together, with more feelings than this condensed silence, sound better than being together, forever?"  You spoke over the fire you made.  "Do not doubt that I love you as you do not doubt that these trees, the stars and the sun and moon in the sky are real.  It would mean more if I lived, loved and died by your side than an endless days filled with silence." 

You made up your mind to leave.  You embraced me for the last time. 

You did not turn around to look at me as you made your way out of the forest.  But I was yours and I would follow you. 

\---    

    

Time goes on quickly.  They celebrate birthdays together, he, Glenn and Merle.  There are friends there sometimes, more of them than they can count and sometimes less.  Neighbors change, move and pass away, new families moving in with big nervous smiles that he still doesn't know how to counter correctly.  So he lets Glenn be the friendly one, while he remains mostly quiet beside him.  Glenn spends months trying to recreate Ms. Jodie's blueberry pies with her passed down secret recipe, but he is the first to admit they don't taste quite the same.  And there are plenty of days just spent doing nothing, going to work, sit down once a month to do the bills together, or watch another final World Series game or another Super Bowl.  They watch the news and the coverage of the bill passed for same-sex marriage without much thought to it.  It is Merle who barks out, "Now you two fairies can finally tie the knot!" 

Glenn blushes while Daryl throws a beer cap at his brother.  "It ain't like that." 

Merle howls, though it is weak and he coughs for awhile after.  "Everyone in town and the goddamn state 'a Georgia knows you two are an ol' married couple anyway.  Just make it legal while ya can, whyduncha'?" 

"Shuddup," Daryl hides his smile behind his beer. 

"Do it before I die, make yer ol' brother a happy man." 

He studies Merle for a bit.  He's just skin and bones, surviving on minimal food and a truckful of painkillers.  He's a tough sonofabitch, his brother.  Even the doctors don't understand how he can still be alive after all these years, clicking their tongues at the size of the cancer in him.  The old nurse who was helping Merle get dressed while Daryl stood around helplessly had said, "It must be because he has so much love around him.  Ain't ready to go yet." 

Must be.  Maybe.  But Merle's words do damage. 

"Alright."  Daryl says to Merle.  "But not only 'cause I want to make ya happy." 

Merle has a smug expression. 

He turns to Glenn who's watching the brothers' exchange with big eyes. 

"Wanna get married?  I ain't got a ring for ya or nothin'." 

But Glenn has tears in his eyes anyways.  "Yes.  Yeah.  Let's get married." 

\---   

   

"I love ya," Daryl whispers in Glenn's ear, after their first kiss as a married couple. 

"I love you, too."  Glenn says.  Small smile.  Small beautiful smile. 

It is a small affair, with their closest friends and a few neighbors.  They decide to have it in the backyard of their house.  Aaron and the girls from the bar have decorated the yard the day before, people bringing food and wine and beer.  There's a big cake, too, and music.  It feels like a big bar-b-que with friends but they're celebrating his life with Glenn.  No fancy tuxedos or ladies in pretty dresses, but he's got a suit on, pressed and clean.  He's even got a tie on.  It's a fun day, eating, drinking and dancing until the evening comes. 

Not much changes after that, other than some legal papers they filed at the county office.  Not a single part of their routine changes, every day work and coming home and falling asleep together.  They'd opted to not go on a honeymoon, since they spent a lot of money on the party, albeit small, but a bigger reason that they didn't want to leave Merle alone for more than a day.  He can't leave his bed without help now.  He's too weak even to cough or cuss at Daryl. 

Daryl gets promoted to Supervisor of Transportation, doesn't drive buses anymore.  He doesn't like sitting in the office all the time but the pay he can't ignore.  He likes the responsibility, that there are people who trust him with it, so if he had to be honest, doesn't mind the new job.  With his first big paycheck he takes Glenn out to a nice dinner.  He wanted to take Merle, too, but he refused, stating he was too weak to go out.  Mostly, he doesn't want to go, he says.  They take Glenn's new Honda, having traded the old thing in for a new one, since they can afford to now.  The dinner is fancy, the kind of place they need to wear their suits in.  With courses and multiple forks and knives neither of them know what to do with.  Glenn is giddy with wine, the conversation flowing.  Daryl feels happy and content with this life. 

This life, he had never imagined for himself as a child or as a young man, barely having enough food for himself, sleeping in Pa's old truck, in the tent patched up with duct tape, or just out in the open field under the hot summer sky.  Never would have imagined that he'd have a house, a family, a good job with people depending on him for supervision, and friends to talk to, hang out with.  Never would have thought he would have people say to him, _'I wish I had a happy life like_ _yours_ ', and mean it.  Makes him happy, nostalgic.  And a hint of emptiness inside his head. 

Glenn asks him, "Do you remember those missing years yet?" 

Daryl takes his hand, twirling the ring they eventually got, exchanged during their vow ceremony, slipping on Glenn's slim finger.  "No." 

There a sadness in Glenn's voice.  "Do you wish to know?" 

"Yes." 

The shimmering inside Glenn's eyes are him wishing that he'd said, _no_.  There's not even a single question on his mind about how Glenn would know what he does not.  He just feels it. 

"Let's go home," Glenn says. 

\---    

    

"Are you even real?"  You said.  "Are you more real than these trees and the soundless birds and animals?  You said you were like them before." 

You touched my skin. 

"I can feel you.  I can feel your warmth.  I can smell you.  I can hear your words." 

"I am as real as you want me to be.  I'll always be what you wish me to be." 

You wiped the tears falling out of my eyes. 

"These tears are real."  You said, your voice trembling. 

"If you leave, you won't remember." 

"I will.  I will remember somehow."  Your kiss was possessive.  The only reason you stayed for this long...  perhaps was because of me.  "I'll remember you in any shape or form.  I'll remember...  Nothing can erase this thing inside my heart, here, no one." 

I believed in you.  Because you gave me life.  Even if you don’t know it now. 

\---   

   

The eerie silence inside the house frightens him.  Daryl lets Glenn's hand go, rushing into Merle's room.  He's still breathing.  Glenn takes out his phone to call for the ambulance.  But Merle stops him gently.  "It's too late, Glenn.  It's too late." 

"Merle," Glenn says.  He is feeling helpless in this moment. 

"Only got a few breaths left.  I want to tell Daryl somethin'."  Merle takes a deep breath.  A shuddering breath.  Daryl kneels next to the bed.  Glenn is beside him.  He hesitates, but takes Merle’s hand.  “Went…  Went to see Pa and Ma outta prison.  Pa was nearing dyin’.  Ma…  Dunno where she was.  Pa couldn’t say.  He said…  Ya sorry sonuvabitch, why’re’ya crawlin’ back here…” 

Merle coughs dangerously.  Glenn tries to get water but Merle stops him with a loud.  “No!” 

“Daryl…” 

“Let him finish.  He needs to say this.”  He assures Glenn, trying to calm him down with his eyes, with how he speaks. 

“Pa…  He said…”  Merle clears his hoarse throat.  Tries to.  He shakes his head weakly.  “He said…  You shoulda been like Daryl, always readin’, smart lil’ boy, not like a Dixon, like you…  He said, I’m proud that boy is mine.  Mmhmm.  Very proud.” 

Vision is clouded and there’s water in his eyes. 

“Didn’t stay to find out what else he had to say.  I went back though, a few months later, when I had no place to go to, with this cancer growin’.  And he was dead.  On that goddamn lounger…  Dead.  Rotting away.  So…” 

Merle’s eyes meet Daryl’s. 

“I burnt it down.  I burnt that house down.” 

There’s a long silence, just Merle’s labored breathing. 

“And you know what?  I’m proud of ya as well, lil’ brother.  Damn proud.  Didn’t think I’d live this long.  But I’m glad…  I get to end this life with my… family…” 

“No…  Merle…” 

“Take good care of Glenn now.  He’s a good boy.  And no one, not even you, messes with Merle Dixon’s brother-in-law.  Ya hear me?” 

The only thing Daryl can do is nod. 

“Good.  Now go on.  Leave me be.  Go to sleep.  I’ll see the both of ya in the mornin’.” 

They close the door.  Sit on the couch until the sun rises.  Glenn goes to check up on Merle, comes back out and calls the police station.  They arrive thirty minutes later with the coroner.  Daryl doesn’t move from the couch until they take his brother’s cold body away.  He just falls into bed, face down, and goes to sleep.   

\---   

    

The drive is silent, stretched and solemn.  He and Glenn are wearing the suits for the small funeral they’d held, attended by only a handful of friends.  He’d not said a word, and Glenn remained just as quiet at his side.  It takes hours, the drive, without even a single word shared between them.  He just can’t, not yet.  And Glenn will do whatever he wants. 

He holds the urn with both hands, walking down the empty beach towards the water.  Glenn points out the rocky fisherman’s point, so they make their way slowly towards it.  They stand on the slippery rock for a long time, staring at the rolling waters.  The sky is grey, with gulls flying low. 

He doesn’t explain why he chose this beach.  Glenn just knows and he stands beside him.  Wind whips around them, sprays of salt water ruining their suits.  Daryl clears his throat once, after so long of disuse.  He opens the urn, spilling the content slowly into the wind.  Into the water.  Letting the ash float and fly and sink and disperse.  Disappear and go free.  He whispers when it is done, “Rest now, Merle.” 

He takes Glenn to a diner on the way back so he can eat.  They share a platter of fried chicken and fries but they taste like nothing.  Glenn insists on driving, so he lets him.  And he begins his story.  One he knows already.  One he remembers as they come, piece by piece.  A story of a boy, a young man, into his adulthood, where he finds a place of fantasy, but so real at the same time, where he meets a boy, a boy who loves him back. 

The story ends as they pull into their driveway.  Daryl saunters back into the house, tired, shedding the salt water scented suit and tie and shoes, the shirt, the trousers on the way into the bedroom.  He climbs into the bed.  When Glenn enters, having picked up the pieces of clothes he’s dropped on the way, he screams into the pillow, the one that smells of Glenn, a scream that pierces and explode out of him, one he’s never known he was capable of.  His eyes water, lungs feeling constricted, keeps screaming and crying, screaming again. 

When Glenn touches him, he flinches, backing away completely.  There are hurt in Glenn’s eyes.  He doesn’t care.  He doesn’t think he can do it anymore. 

Doesn’t believe that his pain and the lack of love has brought about this person he thought he loved all these years.  The memories, he doesn’t believe in anymore.  The time he’s shared with the person he’s supposed to have loved, who was supposed to have loved him, unconditionally, was a lie.  A lie, like everything else, because Glenn loved him only because he didn’t have anything else. 

“No, Daryl, it isn’t true.  It isn’t like that.”  There are tears in Glenn’s eyes. 

“And if what I wanted…  What I was looking for was…  For my family to love me and accept me…  I have that now.  Are you going to disappear?”  It hurts to say it.  It hurts to question this. 

“No, Daryl.  I love _you_.” 

“And if I don’t?” 

Glenn bites his lip, drops falling from his eyes, down the soft skinned cheeks, to the floor off his chin. 

“Then…  I’ll disappear…” 

Glenn wraps his arms around his shoulders.  Kisses his mouth, softly, hesitantly, trembling. 

When Daryl wakes up, he is alone in the room. 

\---    

    

All traces of Glenn are gone.  There is nothing inside the house that is Glenn.  There’s only his and Merle’s old motorcycles in the garage.  There is not even a piece of hair, like he’s never existed.  Daryl is in a state of daze for days, and the people around him just assume it’s because of his brother’s death.  He sits at Aaron’s bar, the furthest seat from the exit, contemplating into the glass of whiskey and melting ice cubes.  Aaron stands by, idly wiping the bar.  Daryl glances at the decorated wall behind Aaron, where he’s pinned up pictures and memorabilia of friends and regulars. 

“What d’you do with that picture?  One of me and Glenn…”  It had been one of Aaron’s favorites, a picture of them from their small vow ceremony.  Daryl’s hand around Glenn’s waist, Glenn giggling widely and happily, and a rare smile on Daryl’s face. 

“What picture?  Glenn?” 

“I know he left me… but you didn’t have to take that down…” 

“What are you talking about?  Who is Glenn?” 

It crashes down on Daryl.  _I’ll disappear_ …  Completely, out of everyone’s memory, but not from his.  Daryl squeezes his eyes shut.  The promise he’d made…  The wish he’d made…  He tears out of the bar, back to the house.  Takes the crossbow off the wall and his knife.  He steers his motorcycle to the woods in the darkness. 

After hours of searching through the night, he doesn’t find the forest.  The forest where Glenn would exist.  It doesn’t want him.  Glenn…  doesn’t want him anymore.  He knows now what heartbreak feels like.  There is no presence of Glenn around him anymore, holding him, guarding and guiding him.  He can’t feel him.  Can’t even feel his own existence anymore. 

\---    

    

No matter what he does or say, what he prays or what he wishes for, Glenn does not return.  And when weeks turn into months, months turn into years, Daryl accepts it, stops hoping that he would. 

The world still spins, keep changing and growing.  One day he retires from work.  One day, Aaron sells the bar and leaves the state to somewhere better for him.  He’s tired, he says, and Daryl understands just fine.  His neighbors change.  The boy across the street who’d been a wobbling toddler is now a grown up teenager, mowing his lawn on the weekends, for no pay.  He’s gone in the fall for college, but there are other kids and young men and women on the street who are willing and glad to help out ‘Ol’ Mr. Dixon’.  Daryl accepts it, likes to sit on the porch chair watching the people drive by, walk or run, waving at him.  Watches the children grow up and tell them the stories about an enchanted forest and a boy and a fairy. 

A little girl asks him, “Are fairies really real?” 

“They are, if you really believe in them.” 

The little girl, too, grows up, tells him to take care of himself as she moves out of her parents’ house with a young man, a little too wild for his approval.  But she’s in love, or just infatuated.  Whatever it may be, he never sees her again after. 

And one day, he’s too tired to make it to the porch.  Lays in his bed.  He knows.  It is time.  And he’s happy that he indeed got to spend this one life with those who really mattered, had known what it feels like to really be loved and liked, and there is nothing else he wants.  Except… 

“I’m ready.”  He says. 

And he feels him.  Fingers laced with his, the scent of his skin he still knows so well, the touch of his lips against his temple, his heat, his love… 

“Thank you, love.”  He says.  Takes one last shallow breath. 

“Anywhere…  I’ll be with you, anywhere.  Forever.” 

\---    

    

There is a short article in the town paper.  About Daryl Dixon and husband Glenn Rhee-Dixon, partners for fifty years, married for forty-seven, how they died peacefully in bed just minutes apart, beloved members of the community and well loved and respected.  Most of all, happy.  The photo of them, with Daryl’s arm wrapped around Glenn’s waist, on their vow ceremony day, with the bright sunlight beaming down on them, for all eternity… 

.end. 


End file.
